


Soulmates

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Red Line of Destiny, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were clues, of course… Little physical manifestations on your body to alert you that your Soulmate had been met and identified them for you.  Romantics called it the “red line of destiny” and really it was a permanent red line that formed around your dominant pinkie finger.  The quality of the line matched your Soulmate’s and some thought of it like an invisible thread or rope.  It was believed that the stronger the line the stronger the connection and the wider the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: Implied/discussed non-con and torture. Drugs.
> 
> I began this fic in 2012 and for a long time it was just the first 8 pages. When I finally finished it was 47 pages. 
> 
> Red Line of Destiny is a trope I often encountered in Manga and Anime. People are connected by invisible strings to those they are destined to meet/be with. I thought I would bring it into the Sherlock universe. I'm showing my Anime/Manga roots!

Soulmates. Every culture had a name for the phenomenon and it was a natural part of human biology… That fate link that attached you to another human being. Sherlock Holmes didn’t believe in fate. As a child he had been told about Soulmates but it was a little difficult to believe there was a fateful person that would breeze into your life and accept you for all you are and your soul would be tied to theirs. It was difficult to believe such things when Morten Gillipse was pushing you into the mud and calling out, “Freak! Freak! Sherlock’s a Freak!” 

No one stepped in to stop Gillipse… In fact many others just stood around and pointed along with him. No one defended him and ever more that name stuck, whispered viciously so Sherlock would never forget that he had been born different. Sherlock was too smart and all the other children understood that anything different was to be tormented.

Sherlock Holmes didn’t believe in fate because there were many times in his life that having a special someone who understood him completely would have been beneficial but that person never showed up. At uni he watched all of his classmates paired off to suck face, leaving him alone with echoes of “Freak” in his mind. The only time the echoes were silent were when he was high as a kite on drugs, dulling his mind and making him just like everyone else.

There were clues, of course… Little physical manifestations on your body to alert you that your Soulmate had been met and identified them for you. Romantics called it the “red line of destiny” and really it was a permanent red line that formed around your dominant pinkie finger. The quality of the line matched your Soulmate’s and some thought of it like an invisible thread or rope. It was believed that the stronger the line the stronger the connection and the wider the line.

^.~

John Watson went through life without a mark. Time after time he would date but the mark never developed. It was supposed to be instant the moment Soulmates touched. And John liked to touch but the mark never showed up. When he was 28 he finally gave up. Statistics showed that the probability of finding your Soulmate after 25 was low. So John joined the military with the other unmarked men and women who also never found their Soulmate. Studies showed that in all likelihood their intended was already deceased. The hopeless often found themselves in combat. In the opinion of society they had very little to live for.

In the sands of Aghanistan John was shot and the pain that wracked through his body made him believe that he would die alone and unloved on foreign soil. “Please gods, let me live.” Even living alone and unloved was preferable to dying alone in some war torn corner of the world.

It seemed the gods heard him and he was healed and sent home. John Watson didn’t know it then but his whole life was about to begin again. 

^.~

John woke in a strange bed beside another man. For a moment he felt a deep panic and edged away. Pain shot through his hand and up his arm, beginning to work its way through his body. In confusion he stared at his hand before he noticed that the other man was now awake. 

“What are you doing?” The brunette asked kicking John in the shin. Rather than pain the touch of the other man’s foot eased the discomfort and he caught John’s ankle once again between his own ankles. “You told me we have to keep in skin contact.”

John stared down at his left pinkie with its red mark and remembered.

^.~

“This takes me back.” John stated, looking around the old lab at St. Bart’s. 

A brunette man sat at one of the tables, looking into a microscope. “May I borrow your phone, Stamford?”

“Sorry…” Mike Stamford replied.

“Here… Use mine.” John replied and held out his mobile. Their fingers touched and that’s when it happened. John nearly dropped the phone as what felt like an electric jolt passed through his body. 

“Oh my gods!” Mike crowed. “You two? Who would have thought?! You two are Soulmates? Shite! You’re pissing me?”

The word “Soulmate” crossed John’s brain and he immediately grabbed the other man’s wrist.

“What are you doing?” 

“We have to keep in skin contact for the next full day.”

“Why?” The other man demanded, pulling away. At that moment a sharp pain traveled up from fingers to arm and then vibrated through the rest of the body. “Oh!”

“Skin contact!” John replied, grabbing the wrist again. “The Soulmate bond has to settle.”

“This is inconvenient.”

“Well usually when Soulmates find each other they get down to business and start shagging and snogging.” Mike offered, helpfully. “Of course you probably forgot about that, didn’t you Sherlock?”

The man named Sherlock closed his eyes a moment and shook his head. “There was no need to remember that. I believed I was unmatched.”

“You’re not the only one.” John replied. 

“This has put a real damper on my day. Come along then.” Sherlock headed for the door.

“Wait! Where are we going?” John asked.

“I have things to do.”

“We have to remain in skin contact.” John replied.

“You can come along.”

“I’m not going to follow you around all day holding your hand. I have a… A limp.”

“Psychosomatic.” Sherlock answered, flippantly.

“I can’t just…” John began but Sherlock was already leaving the room. Their connection broke and pain made both wince and cry out. 

Blindly Sherlock reached out and grabbed John’s hand. “You’re coming with me.”

John found himself pulled down to the morgue to fetch a riding crop and then out to the front of the hospital where he was dragged into a cab. “This is…”

“Quiet! I have to clear my day. Hold my wrist while I text.”

Annoyed but unwilling to experience the pain again John held the slim, boney wrist and began to wonder about the man he was tied to.

“Done! Now we head home.”

“Home?”

“To my flat. Your flat is hardly appropriate to accommodate both of us during this time of… Touching. Besides I have a landlady who will be more than happy to help us out once she finds out who you are.” Sherlock kept his hand on his thigh with John’s hand holding his wrist. 

“But… I barely know you.”

Sherlock turned to regard John, assessing him from top to bottom. “You had hoped for a female Soulmate. Believe me… Your gender is a surprise to me too.”

“I don’t… I mean I didn’t… I thought my Soulmate was dead, actually.”

“And yet here we are.”

“How old are you? What do you do? Um… Do you have any hobbies?”

Sherlock stared back at the floundering little man he found himself connected to. “34… I’m a consulting detective… I play the violin and perform experiments.”

“Brilliant…” John replied, looking out his window. 

“You’re older… 38? A soldier and a doctor… You played rugby back at uni.”

“How do you know that?” John asked, looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked knowingly.

^.~

Several hours had been spent trying to coordinate movement so they wouldn’t have to break contact… Making trips to the loo interesting. John tried to ignore the fact that another man was watching him pee with more than a little interest. When Sherlock peed at least John had the decency to look away. 

At some point it was decided that lying down in bed helped pass time and the detective read while John lay in a fetal position, back to Sherlock with their ankles touching. That was how he fell asleep.

And when he woke up he had forgotten why he was there until the kick to the shin reminded him. “Sorry…” John rubbed his face with his hands. “Not used to waking up in strange beds.”

“Yet you have… When you woke up in hospital after you were shot.”

John pulled down his hands and looked to Sherlock. “How did you know that?”

Sherlock raised his mobile. “Looked you up, actually. My brother is the British government. He’s more than a little interested in the Captain John Watson that suddenly formed a Soulbond with his younger brother… See if you were a threat. I could have told him you weren’t but he still wanted to check… And he gave me your file.”

“Splendid…” John sighed, curling up into a tighter ball.

“You’re upset.”

“Just a little overwhelmed. I wasn’t expecting this to happen. I told you… I thought you were dead.”

“No… It’s just our paths never crossed before now.”

“Fate’s a bitch… If I had known I wouldn’t… I mean… Only the unmatched go into the military. I almost died and then you’d have never… I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know…” Sherlock replied, scrolling through John’s file. “There’s no way we would have crossed paths before this. You were a doctor and I was… I didn’t like hospitals.” Sherlock glanced at the time on his mobile. “At least 20 more hours. This is dull… How do people survive this captivity?”

“Sex…” John replied, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. “I hear sex actually makes the process shorter. It helps connect Soulmates.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John.

“It doesn’t have to be penetrative sex… Any means to a simultaneous orgasm should snap us into alignment.”

Sherlock tossed away his phone and shifted in bed. “Fine then… Let’s get this over with.”

“You’re not serious?”

“I don’t have the time to wait. If it means I can get back to work I’ll do it.”

John shook his head. “I’m not… We just met!”

“Are you suggesting that only those with previous acquaintance shag? I don’t know what sorts of schools you went to… But I know that is not the case.”

John blushed and looked away. “I… Barely know you.”

The word “freak” echoed in Sherlock’s mind and he stared up at the ceiling. It would make sense that even his own Soulmate would reject him. 

“I’m sorry… That was rude. You’re my Soulmate… My other half. You are really handsome… I’m just a bit embarrassed. Compared to you I’m… I’m… Well… LOOK at me! I can’t be what you hoped for. Who wants a broken soldier anyway?” 

“Who wants a former junkie?” Sherlock replied quietly.

John blinked a few times. “When was that?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Does it matter?”

“About ten years ago… It had to have been… Ten years or so, right? I just thought… I was ill. But now that I think about it… It must have been you I was feeling. I felt you…” John shook his head in wonder. “All this time I thought you were dead and… I felt you and didn’t realize it. They would have kicked me out of the military…”

“You wouldn’t have been shot…”

“Did you have ANY clue I existed? Any clue at all now that you look back?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No… I gave up a long time ago if you really must know.”

“Did you even try?”

“There are only so many times… I tried. You look at me as if you don’t believe me… But I tried to look for you, John. When I was a child I imagined my Soulmate as someone who would be my friend… Stand up for me when they… They called me names and beat me up. But as years went by and no one came forward I lost hope. Why bother when you’re meant to be alone?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through that…Without me.” John shifted so he was closer, resting his head against Sherlock’s shoulder. “I would have protected you.”

“You’re a soldier… Soldiers protect.”

John lightly kissed Sherlock’s shoulder. 

Sherlock startled and glanced down at where John kissed him. 

John reached up and lightly cupped Sherlock’s cheek in his hand, feeling the prominent cheekbone under his thumb. “You really are beautiful…” His fingertips trailed gently over the cheek to Sherlock’s ear. “I’m sorry I’m not…”

Sherlock frowned and shook his head. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“You’re stuck with me…”

“No… You’re stuck with me…”

John gently caught the back of Sherlock’s neck and pulled him closer to kiss his lips. The lush lower lip was delectable and he nibbled on it before he pushed his tongue into the other man’s mouth, tasting him. Feeling the link light up with their contact he continued to consume his Soulmate. Finally pulling away, he smiled at the look of surprised debauchery on Sherlock’s face… His eyes closed, mouth open, cheeks flushed. 

Sherlock opened his eyes and blinked to clear his vision. “I’ve never been kissed before.”

The words broke John’s heart and he pulled the other man closer, almost on top of him with his arms wrapped around Sherlock’s back. “Did you like it?”

“I think… Yes. It was nice.” With an experimental shift of the hips, Sherlock knew he was hardening. “You barely know me…”

“You’re my Soulmate… That’s what we’re meant to do.” John reached down to rest his hands on Sherlock’s arse, squeezing the firm buttocks. 

“Oh!” Sherlock cried out and began to rub up against John in earnest. 

“Skin… More skin…” John murmured as his fingers pushed down under the waistband of Sherlock’s trousers. 

Sherlock fumbled with his button and zip before hastily pushing down his trousers halfway down his thighs. His fingers greedily did the same for John, catching the waistband and pulling then down before laying down with a groan. “More… I need more.”

“Then you should have undressed us completely.” John chuckled, his movements hobbled by their trousers. His legs kicked as his hands rested on Sherlock’s ass, careful to keep skin contact. 

Sherlock’s fingers went to work on shirts, unbuttoning and opening so he could create as much skin contact as possible. Tossing his own shirt aside he worked on John’s, eventually his hands coming to rest on the other man’s sides as John finished pulling off his own shirt. Sherlock paused, staring at the puckered and swollen bullet wound on John’s shoulder. Lightly he traced it with a fingertip, careful not to touch it directly.

“I’m sorry…”

“Why should you be sorry?” Sherlock breathed as he shifted his attention to John’s face.

“I nearly got myself killed before I could meet you.”

“I thought you were already dead.” Sherlock whispered and rested his head against John’s other shoulder, shutting his eyes. “Skin contact feels good.”

“Mm…” John hummed in agreement as his hands traced down Sherlock’s spine to the swell of his buttocks. “I’m a little overwhelmed…”

“Why?” Sherlock lifted his head to look down at John.

“I find out my Soulmate is beautiful…” Craning his head up, he kissed Sherlock’s lips.

“’M not beautiful.” Sherlock mumbled. 

John managed to push Sherlock off onto his side and snuggled up against him. “What are you talking about? Have you seen yourself lately?”

“I’m a freak.” Sherlock whispered with a look of terror in his eyes. 

John lightly cupped Sherlock’s cheek with his hand. “Why do you say that? Who called you a freak?”

“Because I didn’t have a Soulmate. Something was wrong with me.” Sherlock answered, not wanting to meet John’s eyes.

“You found me.” John whispered as he leaned in for another kiss. Reaching down he wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s cock, thumbing the slit as he stroked it from root to tip. 

“Oh…” Sherlock moaned less than eloquently as his brain began to turn to mush with John’s touch. Relaxing on the bed he allowed the doctor to expertly touch him, making him feel an excitement he didn’t know he could feel. His cock was hard… His gut felt funny… And his pulse was beginning to race. John stole his breath with every kiss. And then he realized that John was straddling one of his thighs, rolling his hips and pressing his own erection against Sherlock’s hip. Reaching down he touched John’s cock, squeezing it in his fist as he heard the other man cry out and rub against him with more need. 

“Are you close?” John panted against Sherlock’s throat. “Please, gods… Say you’re close. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. You feel so good.”

Sherlock wrapped an arm around John’s back, feeling the other man’s frantic movements. “Almost there…” Sherlock breathed and quickly sucked on his own finger, covering it in saliva. Reaching down with it he pushed it into someplace warm and tight.

John cried out as his movements became erratic. His hand tightened on Sherlock’s cock as he felt the first wave of his orgasm overwhelm him.

Sherlock reveled in the sensation of John coming undone in his arms, knowing a part of him was inside of John’s body. With the first wet pulse on his hip he felt his body give an answering pulse. Helplessly he pushed up against the man who writhed against him. Something within him seemed to click into place and he relaxed into it, pulling his finger out and wrapping both arms around John’s back to hold him close. The mark on his pinkie seemed to burn for a moment before the sensation began to fade into a bearable tingle. 

John snuggled against his mate, taking deep breaths to steady his racing heart. “I think… That’s the best sex I’ve ever had.” With a soft chuckle he kissed Sherlock’s neck. “I didn’t even know my body would like having your finger up my bum.” Gently he pulled away enough to look Sherlock in the eye. His fingers pushed the dark curls from the detective’s forehead. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I ejaculated, didn’t I?” Sherlock smirked.

John kissed that smirk away. “Shall we see if it was enough to snap our bond into place?”

A look of terror passed through Sherlock’s eyes. 

“What is it?” John asked quietly.

“Will you leave?”

“I’ll go get something to clean us up. Semen is… Kind of disgusting when it dries.”

“Ok.” Sherlock released John from his hold.

John pulled away slowly, still keeping skin contact with his hand holding Sherlock’s until he was completely out of the bed. And then he let go. Neither man flinched with pain. There was only a dull throb from the mark. “It worked.” John smiled at Sherlock. “I’ll be right back.” And John was true to his word, returning less than a minute later with a wet flannel to clean the semen from Sherlock’s body. “So… We’re bonded now.” Tossing away the flannel he lounged upon the bed next to the detective.

“I suppose this means you’ll have to move in…” Sherlock mused.

“Have to?” John raised an eyebrow at him.

“You need a place to live… That is why Stamford brought you around. The bedsit you have been staying at is small and uncomfortable. You weren’t expecting to meet your Soulmate, you were just looking for a flat share. I was looking for a flat mate and instead I found my Soulmate. So when will you move in?” 

“Tomorrow morning… If you like.”

“Tomorrow…” Sherlock echoed, his eyes glancing towards the clock on his night stand. It was early evening. “Will you spend the night?”

“Of course.” John smiled.

^.~

Just because two were Soulmates did not mean it was guaranteed they would be completely compatible. 

John found himself kicking at the door of the house Sherlock had disappeared into. “Let me in! Sherlock Holmes, open this door this instant!”

As usual when they were on a case and Sherlock was focused on the prey, John was ignored. Somehow John had been sucked into a world full of mystery and adventure in the past few months since he found Sherlock. There was something on a primal level that appealed to him about Sherlock’s way of life. But he really resented being left behind. 

“Sherlock! Let me in!”

If John hadn’t been so focused on the door he might have heard the soft footsteps that crept up on him. But he didn’t and all he felt was the pinch and burn as the needle entered his skin. Then he knew no more.

^.~

“Hello…” A voice greeted, causing John to stir. 

The doctor found himself on the ground, face to face with a man. The man had dark hair and eyes. There was an odd grin on his face as if he thought the whole situation amusing. John opened his mouth to speak but no sound came.

“Oh… Sorry about that. The drug I used makes you speechless for a little while. Don’t worry. You’ll get your voice back soon enough.” The man grinned.

John shook his head and grunted.

“Soon your thread mate will be here and then you’ll have work to do. I need you speaking for that. But I don’t want you screaming for help just yet.” The man shifted to rest his hand under his head as if it was the most normal thing to be lounging on the ground beside someone. “You know… You don’t deserve him. You’re far too ordinary. If Sherlock was ever going to have a thread mate I would imagine them to be truly magnificent as he. But you…” The man rolled his eyes. “It seems that fate scraped the bottom of the barrel when it found you. I feel bad for poor Sherlock.”

John struggled to move but the drug paralyzed his limbs.

“That’s not going to work. The drug will wear off soon enough. You may as well relax. In fact I may put you back to sleep for a little while. I just wanted you to know that you are rather disappointing. Ta!” 

And with another pin prick. John was asleep again.

^.~

John stumbled down the short hallway and realized he was at the swimming pool. His eyes found Sherlock just where the voice in his ear said he would be. “Fancy meeting here… Where it all began.”

“John?” Sherlock queried, blinking in surprise and confusion. 

John took several steps closer and stopped, opening the heavy jacket he was wearing to reveal the bomb attached to his body.

“Hello!” The man with dark hair and eyes called out from behind John. “Rather interesting thread mate you got stuck with. Well… When I say ‘interesting’ I mean ‘ordinary.’ He’s really rather plain.”

Sherlock raised his gun and aimed it at the man. “Who are you?”

“Who am I? Who do you think I am?” And with that he came up behind John, putting the doctor in the line of fire. “Jim Moriarty.”

“You’re Moriarty?” Sherlock glared at the man standing behind John and lowered to gun.

“I think I just said that. You’re getting a little slow. I blame him.” His hands smacked John on the shoulders. “Whatever happened to biology being beneath you? Who needs threads?”

John took his chance and ducked under and behind Moriarty, putting him in a head lock. “I’ve got him!”

“Ho, ho!” Moriarty crowed. “He’s a little minx! Is he this good in bed?”

Several laser sites blossomed onto Sherlock’s chest and head, alerting John that they really weren’t alone. Immediately he let go of Moriarty and raised his hands in surrender.

“Well… That was fun. It’s been a while since I was felt up.” Moriarty smirked and straightened his suit. “See ya!” And then he sauntered off towards the exit as if it was perfectly normal to threaten people and then walk off. In a moment he was gone.

Sherlock immediately tucked the gun into his trousers and fell to the task of removing the bomb jacket. When it was off he tossed it into the swimming pool and turned around to grab John in an embrace.

John reached up to pat the brown, curly hair residing near his stomach. “It’s alright.”

Sherlock pulled away enough to look John over with a critical eye. “You’re not hurt?”

“I was drugged.” John answered.

“I’ll kill him…” Sherlock seethed and started in the direction Moriarty had departed.

“Sherlock!” John cried out in alarm and caught the detective’s jacket to keep him still. “I’m fine now.”

Sherlock took a deep breath as if to brace himself and then spun around to wrap his arms around John’s body. “Lestrade should be right behind me.”

“You called in the cavalry this time?” 

“I had to. You were taken.”

“Well… Maybe if you didn’t leave me behind…” John mused.

Sherlock took a step back and made a face at him. 

John stared up at the beautiful man fate tied to him. Moriarty was right, he didn’t deserve Sherlock. They didn’t even have sex past the first time. John slept in Sherlock’s bed but that was only because the detective only used it when he absolutely had to… And that bothered John. “I’m ready to go home now.”

Sherlock shook his head and rubbed his face. “I feel funny.”

“Like funny, haha? Or weird?” John queried.

“A sudden sickness…” Absently he started to scratch his dominant pinky finger. “Nausea and yet hunger at the same time…”

John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and held it. “Are you symptoms changing?”

Sherlock was still a moment and then nodded. “How did you do that?”

“I was in danger. You felt my thread tug. Normally thread mates wouldn’t feel it, but…”

“But what?” Sherlock demanded.

“When they’ve been syncing up enough...” 

“Syncing?” Sherlock looked confused.

“Like the first time? In bed? We don’t do that and so…” John looked away and blushed. “Your body craves mine because my thread started to pull away.”

“How do we fix it?” 

“Not here. Someplace private.” John looked around the pool, aware that he was standing very close to Sherlock. “At home.”

At that moment the cavalry arrived and they could speak no more on the subject.

^.~

“What do we do?” Sherlock demanded as he sat on his chair, staring up at John.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“How do you know I won’t like it?” Sherlock challenged.

“It involves me touching you.” 

Sherlock stared at him for a long moment before he shrugged. “Fine then. Touch me.”

John locked the front door and returned to Sherlock’s chair, kneeling before him. “You do understand what’s happened, right?”

Sherlock made a face.

“I was in danger so my thread tugged on you. That’s the uneasy feeling. It will go away when we re-sync ourselves. It will be like our first time… But a little more one sided.”

“In other words… You’ll get me off.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m not completely hopeless, you know. I have done a little research now that I know my Soulmate exists.”

“You researched it?” John scooted closer to the base of Sherlock’s chair, between the detective’s open knees.

“I wanted to know why sex was required to align us.”

“And what did you find out?” John asked as he lightly touched Sherlock’s thighs.

“The thread requires a physical bond to maintain itself. Without that bond it will eventually fade and no longer be visible to others. When one of us dies the other will feel the snap of the thread. It often puts the surviving thread mate in shock.”

John grew distracted at Sherlock’s words on fading. “Is that what you want? Our bond to fade?”

“Why would you ask such a thing?” Sherlock whispered.

“Because we haven’t been maintaining a physical bond. I thought… I really don’t have to do this if you want the mark to fade.”

“It itches, John.”

“That’s not an answer!” John sat back on his heels, pulling his hands from Sherlock’s lap to rest in his own. 

Sherlock unbuckled his belt and undid the button and zip before resting his hands on the arms of his chair as if daring John to act. 

“If you already knew what was required, then why did you ask?”

“Because you may want your mark to fade.” Sherlock answered softly, his fingers digging into the chair arms.

“Moriarty said I wasn’t worthy to have you as my thread mate.”

Sherlock blinked and frowned. “Why would you listen to Moriarty?”

“Tough not to… He had me incapacitated.” 

“Don’t listen to Moriarty.” Sherlock amended, his pale blue eyes fixated on John. They held contact for a long moment before glancing briefly at the undone trousers. They returned to John’s stare with a lick of the indecently full lower lip.

“I will have to touch you.” John breathed.

“You said that already.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Right…” John whispered and adjusted his position, gently pulling the trousers and pants away from an obvious erection. Leaning down, he kissed the warm flesh.

“John…” Sherlock whimpered, his fingers gripping the chair arms like his life depended on it. 

“Just enough for me to taste you… Or more skin?” John kissed the shaft again, lightly teasing the stiffness with his tongue.

“Skin…” Sherlock echoed, shifting his legs as if to open them wider.

“Skin.” John whispered and his fingers caught the waistband, pulling them down to the detective’s knees, exposing him from the lower abdomen down to just above his knees. With one last look to Sherlock he opened his mouth and swallowed as much as he could until he felt his nose brush pubic hair.

Immediately Sherlock’s fingers were in John’s hair, pulling him down.

John pulled back enough to wrap his fist around the base and began to focus on the tip.

“John… John I’m going to… Please…” Sherlock moaned, unable to complete a sentence.

With a swirl of the tongue John pulled off. “That is the whole bloody point. We will sync up once you cum.”

Sherlock’s fingers gave a tug on John’s hair. “Up… Up here. Please… Up.” His hands caught the sides of John’s face and practically dragged him up his long body.

Hastily John pushed the trousers and pants further down and off one leg so he had room between the detective’s thighs. As soon as Sherlock was free both legs wrapped around John’s waist. “Is this what you want?” John whispered, giving a rough thrust. His own erection was hard under his clothes but this wasn’t about him. “You like this?”

Sherlock whimpered an answer, clinging to John’s body as he rubbed against him without finesse or rhythm. His legs readjusted their grip and he held onto the man rutting against him until… There! With a cry of surprise he felt himself fall over the edge and ejaculate for what felt like “forever.” Really it was only a few moments.

John’s body went still and he rested above his thread mate. “Feel better?”

Mutely Sherlock nodded.

“Good. You should go to bed. I need to go take a shower.” John answered, kissing Sherlock’s cheek before pulling away.

Sherlock lay sprawled on the chair. His legs open, wearing only his shirt and socks, cum oozing onto his belly. Rubbing his face as if to clear his vision he looked up at the almost immaculate doctor. The wet patch on his shirt attested to what they had done, but other than that he looked much better off than Sherlock in that moment. “Do you need any help?”

“I think I can handle a shower.” John answered with a soft smile.

With some effort Sherlock managed to sit up enough to cross his legs, causing his penis to leak anew. “John…”

“You haven’t slept in three days.” John raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll get you a wet flannel and maybe some tea and toast but you should be in bed.”

“And will you come to bed after you shower?” Sherlock challenged.

John nodded. “If that’s what it takes…”

“It is.” Sherlock smirked.

They did not do anything that night. Sherlock slept, curled around his doctor thread mate. John was tired after his wank in the shower. 

^.~

As the days became warmer Sherlock wore less clothing about the flat. As summer began in earnest he went without and opted instead to sit in his skin. Of course this nearly gave Mrs. Hudson a heart attack when she happened into the flat as he sat on his chair. From then on she always knocked first and he kept a sheet nearby to cover up with.

Sherlock also began to only take the most dangerous of cases. They were numbered. Anything below a five was dull. John couldn’t help but notice that six and above tugged just a bit at his thread. Of course he didn’t act on it. In the military he built up a tolerance to discomfort. When they met Irene Adler the light pull became a sharp tug.

John was doubled over, his face pressed against Sherlock’s sternum as the detective lay on the floor. “What did you give him?” John demanded, staring up at the dominatrix sitting in the window.

“Just a little something to make things easier. It’s called Devil’s Foot.” And with a smile she was gone.

Sherlock moaned in agony, writhing on the floor.

John fumbled with his mobile, his fingers shaking as he sent a text to Mycroft. 

S COMPROMISED. NEED EXTRACTION. –J

Within minutes Lestrade arrived with backup. 

“I thought that I texted Mycroft.” John stated as Lestrade helped him maneuver Sherlock’s body into the back of the police car. 

“You did. He sent me.” Lestrade answered. “What’s wrong with him?”

“She injected him with something. She called it Devil’s Foot.” John replied, resting Sherlock’s head in his lap and lightly touching his face. “Hold still, Sherl. We’re going home.”

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth, squirming blindly on the seat.

“I’ve heard of stuff like that… It makes it so a bonded person can’t finish until they return to their thread mate. It draws out the pleasure. But it only works on those that have thread mates.” 

“That sounds horrible.”

Lestrade shrugged as he drove. “To each their own. It’s really popular in the sex work industry.”

“Why?” John demanded, pushing Sherlock’s curls from his forehead. “What makes it so popular?”

“It draws out the experience.” Lestrade answered.

Traffic was slow and John was helpless as Sherlock rolled around on the back seat, moaning and thrashing about. “It’s alright, Sherl. We’ll get you home. How do we counteract this?”

Lestrade shook his head. “It’s like… A full body tug on the thread. The only known cure is intercourse with the thread mate. It’s only supposed to affect those that have a thread mate, though.” Lestrade glanced at them in his rear view mirror. “Maybe it’s a different version of Devil’s Foot?”

“She distinctly said, ‘Devil’s Foot.’” John replied. 

“I can’t help you there. If he has a thread mate, I don’t know who they are.”

John bit his lips, keeping his eyes focused on Sherlock’s contorted features. There had always been the suspicion that Sherlock had not told anyone they were Soulmates. Lestrade’s uncertainty merely confirmed it. Sherlock often wore gloves so no one actually saw his dominant pinky finger. They wouldn’t know by looking at him that he was bonded. 

When they finally arrived back at the flat Lestrade helped John drag Sherlock up the stairs and into the bedroom. Lestrade lingered by the door, uncertain. “I suppose his Soulmate will be along shortly. They must have felt the tug on their thread. Mycroft will send them along.”

“Thanks.” John leaned against the door frame, desperate to get rid of Lestrade and yet not wanting to reveal Sherlock’s secret. “I should go… Doctor him or something.”

Lestrade waved and headed down the hallway. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“Of course.” John replied, lingering at the front door long enough not to look completely suspicious. When the DI was down he shut the door, locking it and hastened to the bedroom, finding Sherlock writhing half naked on the floor.

“John… John… Oh gods… Take me, John!” Sherlock cried out, blindly reaching out for his thread mate who watched him from the doorway. “Please… Take me.”

John sighed and caught him around the waist, hauling him back up onto the bed. “I’m not taking you.”

“Please… Please…” Sherlock whimpered, wrapping his arms around John’s body, holding him tight. “Take me, please.”

John lightly touched Sherlock’s cheek. “It’s alright. I’m here. You’re in no state to be taken.”

“Please take me.” Sherlock whispered softly in a chant, his fingers digging into John’s back. 

“Let me up. I need to prepare.” John pulled away, ducking under Sherlock’s arms so he could slip away. 

“No… No, come back! Come back!” Sherlock called reaching for him. But he was too far away to be caught. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m just going to take off my clothes and prepare myself.” John hastily undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile upon the floor. Crawling onto the bed he reached down between his legs to find a bundle of nerves just at the base of his scrotum. The thread knot pulsed at his contact, causing his body to relax where he needed relaxation the most. 

Sherlock blinked at the body being presented to him. “What are you doing?”

“If you don’t remember basic biology I don’t have time to explain it to you. Just get on with it.” John bit out, keeping his fingers on the bundle of nerves.

Sherlock managed to get to his knees, draping himself over his thread mate. “John?”

“Just push inside so I can move my hand. Hurry.” John was beginning to feel a bit unbalanced on one hand and two knees. Sherlock’s weight made it all the more precarious.

Sherlock slid in and made no other movement, overwhelmed at the sensation.

John released his pressure point and caught himself with his now free hand before he tipped over. His anus slowly returned to normal tightness around Sherlock’s cock. “Oh… So big.”

Sherlock made no sound, his body draped over his thread mate, face pressed against John’s spine and his hips still.

“You’re going to have to move.”

“I can’t.” Sherlock whispered somewhere near John’s right scapula.

“Why not?”

“It’s too much. I’m going to… To finish.”

“Gods, Sherlock… That’s the whole point. We’re trying to get the drug out of your system.” John squeezed just a tiny bit, feeling so very full.

“No… Don’t do that. Just let me rest. Right here. You’re so tight and warm.”

“That is because you are inside of me.”

“Right now I have my mind back… Just let me indulge in this sensation.” Sherlock whispered, kissing the back of John’s neck. “I don’t want it to end.”

“That is probably the drug talking.” John answered, lowering his shoulders to the mattress.

“What did you do? When you opened… What was that?”

“It’s for male Soulmates… To help them come together. It has a fancy Latin name but it’s normally called a thread knot. It’s a pressure point to relax the muscles and make things easier.”

“Do all have it?”

“Just males.” John tightened again. 

Sherlock hissed and sat up a bit, using John’s hips to steady himself. “Stop that.”

“Why?”

“I want it to last.”

John pushed himself back up onto his hands. Immediately Sherlock draped himself over John’s back again, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady himself and to keep John up. “It would feel so much better if you move your hips.”

Sherlock gave an experimental push and then another… And another! Very soon he was moving erratically, one arm around John’s waist and the other hand holding onto his hip. 

John pushed back into Sherlock’s movements, meeting his thrusts. “That’s it. Like that.” Reaching down he touched himself to the rhythm of Sherlock’s movements. And for a few moments they were one, moving being in perfect sync.

And then Sherlock finished with a soft cry of surprise and a slow collapse of weight against John’s back.

John finished, not caring that his semen messed the blanket below him. Sherlock’s weight pressed him into the mattress in the puddle he had created and he felt at peace, content. Of course it was probably the syncing. Months of constant thread tugging finally found relief.

They could sleep like that… And for a few minutes they did. But then the chill of the room roused Sherlock enough to roll away and burrow himself under the blankets. John quickly followed, not caring what sort of bodily fluids were oozing from either of them. The thread demanded that they curl up together and that’s what he did, safe under a pile of soiled bedding to doze skin to skin. And for a night they were content.

^.~

“She’s dead.” John held up Irene’s phone.

Sherlock held up his hand, palm up.

John placed the phone in his hand and watched as his thread mate glanced at the phone before tucking it away in his pocket and returning to his microscope. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Moriarty whisper to him, “You are unworthy of him.”

^.~

“I saw it. I saw the hound.” Sherlock whispered, his eyes full of terror. His face looked pale even in the flickering firelight. Nervously he took another sip of his whisky.

“But there was no hound.” John answered, studying his thread mate’s face. The thread tugged, but not too much. Whatever Sherlock had experienced he had never been in any real danger. At the very least his body had not been fooled by what he had seen even if his mind had been.

“I tell you I saw it!” Sherlock snarled harshly. 

“You saw something but we both know…”

“What do you know? You weren’t even there! What use are you? Why are you even here?” Sherlock demanded angrily, annoyed.

“Because I’m your thread mate?”

“What do I need with thread mates?” Sherlock made a face, scowling at the fire.

John took a deep breath and stood up. “Right.” Anger and hurt bubbled up within him but he held it in check… Barely. “Maybe you would have been better off not finding me.” And with that he was gone out the door to nurse his sore heart.

In days past he might have gotten gloriously drunk and shagged himself silly. But that was before he found Sherlock. Sherlock who could barely stand to even have sex with John on a regular basis. Their syncing had been few and far between since that night when Irene drugged Sherlock. There hadn’t been any penetrative sex since that night. Their syncing came with an occasional mutual wank. And why was that?

“You’re unworthy of him.” The voice that sounded like Moriarty suggested. “What does he want with someone like you?”

And yet Sherlock maintained enough relationship not to allow their marks to fade.

John startled when he realized he was staring rather rudely at a person of interest. With a blush and a smile he approached her. He could helpful sometimes regardless of what Sherlock said while drunk and angry.

^.~

They did not make up that night. John contemplated his options while sitting in the graveyard, surveying the stones with some interest. The night before Sherlock never returned to their room. Sherlock wandered through the cemetery as if he was lost and then sat beside John. 

“What did she tell you last night?”

“Not much before she was warned off.” John replied.

Sherlock gave a weary sigh.

“What would you have me do? Chase her down and… And bed her to learn her secrets?” John challenged.

Sherlock gave him a look that made him want to hide under a rock.

“That’s what I’m good for, isn’t it? A distraction… A decoy… A spy? I disarm them with my charm. You made it clear it wasn’t my wit.”

“We need to go visit Henry Knight.” Sherlock stated quietly.

“We do, do we? You and I? As if nothing happened last night?”

“Nothing happened last night.” Sherlock echoed quietly.

“If that was nothing…” But he wasn’t sure what he was going to follow that up with.

“We have a case to solve.”

“It seems you can do it without me… Just like the rest of your life.”

“I can’t do it without you.” Sherlock breathed, staring down at the pathway through the graveyard.

“What was that?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Then maybe you should speak up!” John growled and got up from where he sat, heading down the path.

“Where are you going?” Sherlock demanded from behind him.

“Home. To go back my things and…”

“And what? Move out?” Sherlock frowned. “All because I won’t repeat myself?”

“You don’t need me!” John snapped. “You have made it clear that you’re better off without a thread mate.”

“I don’t need a thread mate, John. I need my Soulmate.”

John blinked and blinked again, his rage turning into confusion.

“My Soulmate… The other half of my soul in a separate body.”

“I know what a Soulmate is.” John replied.

“When I am shaken and terrified my other half is calm and soothing.” Sherlock stood and took a step towards John. “When I think I am about to lose my mind, my Soulmate is my sanity. Thread mate…” The word was spit out. “That’s such a pathetic, mundane description of what we have. Fate brings us together… But we’re more than that. Aren’t we?”

John swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes.”

“Help me.”

“Alright.”

^.~

They tumbled into bed, still high from the thrill of the chase. The thread tugging on both from the danger. 

John giggled softly as he stared up at the ceiling. “That was a big dog.”

“Yes, but it was only a dog.” Sherlock agreed as he hastily took off his clothing and climbed onto the bed. “It was the fog that made us think otherwise.” His hand touched John’s chest, rubbing it before sliding down towards the waistband of his trousers. 

John turned his head to look at his naked thread mate with a playful gleam in his eyes. “Yes? Is there something you desire?”

Sherlock scooted closer and leaned in to kiss John’s lips, his fingers burrowing into his trousers and pants to catch something hot and hard in his cool hand. His hand gave a gentle squeeze of the organ. “Don’t you feel the tug?”

“Of course I feel it.” John answered, kissing under Sherlock’s chin and down his throat. 

“Then hurry up and take off your clothes!”

John pulled back and grinned at his thread mate. “All of my clothes? Usually when we settle in for a little wank we have something on.”

Sherlock started to undo his button and zip in an attempt to undress John himself. “All of them! Right now!”

John caught Sherlock’s hands and pushed them away, silencing his protests with a kiss. “Be patient.”

The brunette went still and stared at the doctor with a pout on his lips.

Pulling away, John managed to completely undress before he was tackled to the bed by a very overeager thread mate. “What has gotten into you?”

“Hopefully you will get into me.” Sherlock replied as he pulled John’s body down on top of his own. 

“But… But you’ve never done that before.” 

“When I did it to you it was your first time!” Sherlock insisted. “What’s the difference?”

“You didn’t even know what a thread knot was!” John shot back. “You were completely unprepared for anything.”

“I was also drugged out of my mind.”

“All the more reason…”

“I’m not drugged now.”

“That may not be true. We did inhale a lot of that fog. Who knows what affect it has on us…”

“We were both in danger. We need to sync back together.”

“Shush!” John commanded as he shifted position so that he was straddling Sherlock’s thighs. Lifting up and reaching down between his legs he found his pressure point. It took a few seconds for his muscles to relax. Releasing the pressure point he hastily guided Sherlock’s erection into place and sat down fully before his muscles tightened up again. “Just stay there.” John gave him a smile as he moved his hips.

Sherlock grunted and rested his hands on John’s knees, watching his thread mate move.

John glanced down, meeting Sherlock’s eyes. They were glazed over with pleasure. “You like this?”

“Mm…” The response was a hum. One hand slid between John’s thighs to explore his cock and his scrotum. Questing fingers found a bump behind the doctor’s scrotum and…

John cried out. His body was open and able to bounce with a little more ease as he rocked and shifted. 

Sherlock made his move while John was distracted, rolling them over onto the bed so that he was on top and thrusting into the writhing body below him. His hand wrapped around the leaking cock, squeezing it in time with his movements until he felt John clench on him and wetness covered his fist. With two more thrusts he felt like he was going to explode and he collapsed atop his thread mate. Closing his eyes, he began to doze.

John relaxed, comforted by the proximity of his Soulmate. At that moment they were one being in one body. But how long would that last? 

^.~

Moriarty pouted and looked to the jury. “My name is Richard Brook. I do know Sherlock Holmes.” With a dramatic sigh he lifted his dominant hand, showing off his pinkie. “I bear his mark. Go ahead and check him. You’ll find mind is the same as his.”

John opened his mouth and looked to Sherlock who looked down at his own right hand.

“I know it’s wrong… Homosexual Soulmates… But every time we’re alone together he rings the devil’s doorbell. It won’t fade! It’s so unnatural and I feel so dirty.”

Several jury members gave him sympathetic looks, obviously those that believed homosexual pairings of Soulmates were “unnatural” despite all the physical evidence that it was as normal as heterosexual pairings. John frowned at them. His hands were in tight fists.

“He won’t let me go. He told me that if I didn’t play the part that he would… You know… Try and BREED me. I feel so dirty and so used. He won’t let the mark fade.” Moriarty sobbed helplessly. 

“Motion to allow Sherlock Holmes’ mark to be entered into evidence.” A barrister stated.

“Approved.” The judge answered. 

There was a flash of light but John was too busy staring at his own mark. There couldn’t be three people bonded together. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. At some point John was walking outside the courtroom when Lestrade approached. “I didn’t know Moriarty… I mean Richard Brook is Sherlock’s thread mate.”

John stared at the DI, barely able to comprehend his words. “He’s not.”

“But the mark...” 

“Moriarty’s mark is fake.” John stated. “He’s lying.”

“But Sherlock has a thread mate. The Devil’s Foot…”

John glanced around to make sure that no one was around before lifting up his hand for Lestrade to get a better look.

“Woah!” Lestrade gasped. “Is that…? So that’s…?”

“You heard him… He’s playing it like Sherlock is an abusive thread mate. He’s even appealing to those who think relationships like mine and Sherlock’s are unnatural and perverted. Devil’s doorbell?”

“You have to show them your mark.”

John gave a defeated laugh. “Three people with the same mark? Obviously one of us would have to be lying. There’s no proof that Sherlock and I are Soulmates. I could have faked it to protect my friend. You haven’t even noticed before now that I had this mark. Most people didn’t even know Sherlock had one because he covers it.”

“There’s got to be witnesses to confirm that you two have been bonded, right? People know.”

John bit his lips. Samford would confirm their bonding. So would Mycroft. Both could be accused of covering up for Sherlock.

In the end Richard Brook was released and Sherlock was on the run with John at his heels.

^.~

“What is a ‘devil’s doorbell’?” Sherlock asked as they sat in the darkness of the lab. 

John turned his focus on Sherlock. “What? Devil’s doorbell? It’s… Slang.” And with that he went back to their experiment.

“You could give more information.”

“There are those who think a homosexual Soulmate pairing is wrong. It is believed that those who find they are in such a pairing must resist physical connection. Their marks are supposed to fade. Giving into biology is giving in to evil. The thread knot is called Devil’s doorbell because it opens the way to sinful behavior by giving into lust instead of resisting it.”

“That’s… Stupid!” Sherlock erupted.

“They are in denial that there are other Soulmate pairings besides heterosexual.”

“Why would he say such a thing?”

“To sway part of the jury in his favor. To turn you into a horrible person because you give in to your physical urges instead of denying them and allowing your mark to fade. Your mark shows that you are in a strong physical relationship.”

“John?” Sherlock bounced a ball against the cupboards and caught it.

“Hmm?”

“What happens to the mark if one of us dies?”

John startled and looked at his thread mate. “Dies?”

“What happens?”

“The living bond mate would feel a snap of the thread and a… A vacancy in their soul.”

“And the mark?” Sherlock queried, bouncing the ball again as if this was a casual conversation.

“The mark would fade within a week. It would be as if the person never found their Soulmate.”

“So as long as the mark is there after a week they will know that their Soulmate is alive?”

“I…” John was confused. What was Sherlock asking and why? “Yes.”

“And what if it was very important for the world to think someone was dead? If they saw that the mark didn’t fade would they hide it to keep their Soulmate’s secret?”

“Sherlock…?” John watched him bounce the ball.

“If it meant life and death… Would they hide their mark and pretend it was gone? Would they go on with their life and pretend like they were recovering from a broken thread? Maybe find a companion and carry on as a widower?” 

“I… I suppose they would… If it was that important.”

Sherlock caught the ball and turned around to face John. “Very few people know about us. They think Moriarty is my thread mate.”

“But he’s not.” John breathed.

“Even if time and distance separates Soulmates would they feel the snap?”

John swallowed hard. “Yes. The mark will fade with time and distance… But the final snap will bring it back to fade for a final time.”

“Good.” Sherlock resumed his ball game.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Sherlock caught the ball and held it in his hand, staring at it. “I think you should go back to the flat and protect Mrs. Hudson.”

“Sherlock…”

“You are the other half of my soul.” Sherlock answered. “Please… Protect her for me.”

John stepped around the table to where Sherlock sat and knelt down beside him. “Don’t do this… Whatever you have planned. Don’t.”

“You will feel the snap if I fail.”

“Don’t do this.” John begged, leaning in to kiss the warm, soft lips. “I know you’re planning something.”

“If this goes according to plan… Remember it should fade in a week.”

John kissed him again deeply, all tongue and teeth for a long moment before he pulled away for air and licked his lips. “Come home soon.”

Sherlock smiled and looked to the floor.

John kissed his temple and stood up. Grabbing his jacket he left and didn’t look back.

^.~

John watched in horror as Sherlock fell. When the body disappeared behind the building there was nothing. No pain, no snap. But John cried out anyway, conscious of those who may be watching him. With a scream worthy of a costume drama he fell to the ground and clutched at his mark. It didn’t hurt. There was no pain. But he played it as if there was. Thread snaps were supposed to be agonizing and he played agony well. Firsthand experience of agony came from the battlefield and he recalled it now to make his act convincing.

Someone picked him up from the ground and guided him towards the hospital. Leaning heavily on them, he cried out and moaned until he came in sight of Sherlock’s body in a pool of blood. It certainly looked real. But there was no pain and no tug. There was no death and no danger. John pulled away from his escort and stumbled towards the body. “Beloved, no… Sherlock… No!” John cried out as he fell to his knees again in the pool of blood. It was warm, adding to the scene. John groped for Sherlock’s hand. “Beloved…”

Someone caught hold of him and pulled him away. 

“No! He’s my Soulmate! No!” John cried out as he was dragged away from the body. The rest was a blur of action as Sherlock’s body was whisked away and he was pulled off to a grief therapist that specialized in broken threads.

^.~

John applied the makeup to his left pinkie finger. The mark was faded to that of a sunburn after a year. It was almost unnoticeable to the general public. But John covered it every morning after his shower to keep it from being seen.

There were occasional tugs to the thread, causing him discomfort and the need to find relief with masturbation. Always he dreaded the moment when the thread gave a final snap. But so far the gentle tugs were reminder that somewhere out in the world Sherlock was still alive. 

John’s acting had been noticed. Those that believed Moriarty had been Sherlock’s thread mate were surprised to find that constant companion Doctor John Watson had felt the thread snap with many witnesses. People started to question who Moriarty really was… For he was dead. If he wasn’t Sherlock Holmes’ abused thread mate, who was he? And with those doubts John could work to clear Sherlock’s name. It helped that others such as Lestrade and Mycroft came forward to say they knew John was Sherlock’s thread mate all along. Lestrade didn’t know for sure, but he had been there with the Devil’s Foot incident. Video footage proved that no one else entered the flat to help Sherlock. And then, of course, came the evidence that the mark on Moriarty’s finger had been ink and not a bond mark at all.

John finished blotting out the evidence that Sherlock lived, ready to face another day as a grieving widower.

^.~

Two years and three months after he jumped, Sherlock Holmes returned home.

John blinked up at the man who grinned at him like a Cheshire Cat. The other patrons seemed to disappear so that only he and Sherlock remained.

“Who is this?” Mary Morstan asked.

John returned his gaze to his girlfriend Mary, his insides seemed to liquidate and he fought back the urge to vomit in such a nice restaurant. “There is something I have to tell you.”

“Tell me?” Mary looked between the two men, uncertain.

“I’m not who you think I am.” John whispered.

“Who is?” Mary responded, returning her attention to Sherlock.

“John… Who is this?” Sherlock asked, looking between the two with interest.

“Sherlock… This is Mary. Mary Morstan.” John answered.

A surprised look passed over Mary’s face, followed by hurt. “Sherlock? As in…”

“Yes.” John answered.

“But he’s…” 

“Yes.” John answered again.

“You said he was…”

“Yes.” John breathed.

“We visited his grave.” Mary pointed out.

“All a bit of window dressing, I’m afraid.” Sherlock pushed into the conversation and sat down at the table, next to John.

“You told me he was your bond mate.” Mary addressed John. “How could you go on claiming he was… Dead? You must have known he was alive.”

“For all intents and purposes I was dead. I faked my death and asked John to play along.”

“Why?” Mary turned a glare towards Sherlock, challenging him. 

“To protect him. I told him to play at moving on with his life to keep him safe… It seems he took that a little too far.”

“Where have you been all this time?” John turned and glared at his thread mate. 

“Here and there.” Sherlock answered and took a sip from John’s water glass.

“Here and there?” John echoed.

“I’m not at liberty to divulge in present company.” Sherlock responded, this time stealing a sip from John’s wine glass. “You could have at least ordered better wine.”

John took his glass back and set it back on the table. “I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“I can see that.” Sherlock took the water glass for himself.

“Sherlock… Go home.”

Sherlock stared for a long moment at John’s face before standing. “Very well. I suppose shagging you senseless in the back of a taxi would have been a bit much. I can wait for you to get home.” And with that he cast a grin and a wink at Mary. “Nice to meet you.” 

“And you.” Mary responded.

And he was gone.

Mary set her cheek on her hand and smiled at John from across the table. 

“I was going to tell you.” John managed.

“Were you?”

John scratched at where his mark had been. After more than two years of separation it was completely gone. “I didn’t think he would ever come back. I thought he had abandoned me. It happens, you know. Thread mates just… Drift apart.”

“I know. I’m a nurse, remember? I’ve seen what happens.”

“I stopped feeling him six months ago. No tug… Nothing.”

“That’s around the time we started dating.” Mary commented.

“I thought… What if they were wrong? What if you can’t actually feel the thread snap when you’re that far away? What if the thread snapped without me realizing it?”

Mary reached out and placed a hand on his. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I do love you.” John took her hand. 

“You should probably go home to him.” Mary suggested.

“I don’t know if I can. I was told long ago that I didn’t deserve to be his thread mate. Maybe it’s for the best that we allowed it to fade. Maybe I should just move on.”

“John…” Mary gave a heavy sigh and threaded their fingers together. “Did you even notice that he still has his mark?”

John blinked and then blinked again. His hand in hers went limp as he stared at her in surprise. “What?”

“He used his dominant hand to drink from your glass. There is a mark on his pinkie… About this wide.” Using her other hand she demonstrated the width on John’s pinkie. “It’s still vivid in color and strength.”

“Why would it even be there? We haven’t… Look! Mine is gone.” John pointed out his finger.

Mary shrugged and tightened her hand on John’s before pulling it away. “I think you should go home now.”

^.~

Sherlock straightened up from where he sat on the edge of the bed wearing only his robe. The front door had opened and closed, signaling John’s return to their flat. The footsteps passed through the sitting room, down the hallway to the bedroom. Sherlock smiled at his bond mate who stood in the doorway. “How was your date?”

“Where have you been?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and awkwardly got into bed, looking somewhat stiff.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Sherlock answered as he attempted to arrange the blankets around himself. 

“Why are you so… Stiff?” John approached the bed and looked down at the man who rolled away from him.

“You’re imagining things.” Sherlock mumbled and gave a sharp gasp and flinch. 

“I am not! Sherlock, what’s wrong?” John demanded.

Sherlock untied his robe and pulled out his arm to allow the garment to fall away from his back. There were many barely healed slash marks. Some were covered with bandages. Around his waist were more bandages. 

John sat down on the bed and lightly touched a bandage. “You probably shouldn’t be on your side. Are these ribs broken?”

“Just one.” Sherlock answered. “It’s almost healed… Just sore.”

“You definitely shouldn’t be on your side. Do these lacerations hurt?”

“What do you think?” Sherlock shot back.

John rearranged the pillows and helped Sherlock put his arm back into his robe before guiding him onto his back. “It looks like someone used you as a punching bag.” Carefully he rearranged the blankets to cover his thread mate’s chest. “What happened?”

“I accomplished my task.” Sherlock replied dully. “I took out Moriarty’s web. I was sent abroad. I was tortured. Mycroft won’t let me have the good pain medication because he fears I will self-medicate and I do not want to spend weeks stuck in a hospital room.”

“I couldn’t feel you anymore.”

“Probably because I spent a lot of time in my mind palace pretending I wasn’t there to feel what they were doing to my body.”

John took his hand, lightly touching the mark. “It didn’t fade?”

“As I mentioned… I spent a lot of time in my mind palace. The memories I visited the most were of you.”

John suddenly felt like crying for his own faded mark. Pulling himself together, he got off the bed. “I should let you sleep.”

Sherlock blinked and smiled up at his bond mate. “Is this a dream then? I should have known I haven’t escaped yet. It’s getting really difficult to tell where dream ends and reality begins… The pain is real.”

John hesitated, torn. Quickly he pulled off most of his clothes and climbed into the bed. “It’s real. I’m real, Sherl. You’re home.” Wrapping his arm around his thread mate’s waist, he held on tightly. 

^.~

“Pregnant?” John gaped at Mary who sat on the couch. 

“Yes, John. I’m pregnant.” Mary rolled her eyes.

“But… How?” John looked confused.

“You do know how babies are made… Right, John? You are a doctor.” Mary gave him a look, before turning her attention to Sherlock who stood watching the whole scene. 

Sherlock leaned against the fireplace mantel, staring off into a place near John’s feet.

“When did it…?” John was having difficulty with his brain.

“I would guess the last time we had sex.” Mary answered. “Because Sherlock came back shortly after and you’ve been here since then.”

“What does the doctor say?” John asked.

“About eight weeks according to my first scan.” Mary supplied helpfully.

John finally turned his attention to Sherlock. “Well? Say something!”

Sherlock made eye contact with Mary and gave her a small smile. “Congratulations.”

Mary breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course we will do everything we can to take care of you and the child… If that’s what you want.” Sherlock offered.

“Thank you. Yes. About that… I was thinking of keeping it.” 

“I have a trust fund to take care of any offspring I may…” Sherlock began.

“Wait!” John interrupted. “Sherlock, you can’t just…”

“What my thread mate means to say is that since we are both male we cannot have a child in the traditional way but should one of us sire any offspring outside our bond we will both take care of that child and the child’s mother. Isn’t that right, John?” Sherlock gave John a look.

John nodded and looked down at his hands. “Right.”

“Right.” Mary echoed with a smile. “I wasn’t really expecting that sort of generosity. But it seems fair.”

“Indeed many homosexual Soulmate pairings have adopted a surrogate into their bond to aid with procreation.” Sherlock continued.

“I’ve heard of that.” Mary nodded. 

“Sherlock…” John began.

“Stop it, John. I know you were going to ask her to marry you the night I returned. I found the ring in your pocket. This surrogacy arrangement solves that. You get the family you want. And she gets what she needs.” And with that he pulled on his coat. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” And with that he was gone.

John stared at Mary, still in shock. “Do you even want a surrogacy arrangement? What if you find your Soulmate?”

Mary shook her head. “My Soulmate died before I met them.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. I felt it when I going to college. A snap and a profound loss.”

John got up from his chair and approached her, kneeling at her feet and taking her hands in his. “Do you want to be a part of our family?”

“Yes, please.” Mary wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. 

^.~

The deal went down in a blind spot of the ever present CCTV. A huge wad of bills were exchanged for a large bag of white powder. It happened without any witnesses and the two parted ways as if they never met.

^.~

Mary took a spare bedroom upstairs to be close.

^.~

John stared at the back of Sherlock’s curly head. The detective was curled up on his side. His rib was fully healed and his scars were only red lines crisscrossing his back. Sherlock had been back for three months and yet they had not yet reaffirmed their bond. At first John was afraid of hurting Sherlock further after his torture… And then he was just humiliated about what he had done with Mary. Sherlock was his Soulmate, though… The other half of his soul in a separate body. They would always be one. 

Gently he reached out and placed a hand on Sherlock’s back.

Sherlock startled awake with a gasp and a cry. Turning over, he stared at John in the dimness. “What?”

“You weren’t awake?”

“Why would I be awake? It’s…” Sherlock glanced at the clock. “3:13 in the morning.” Wearily he rubbed at his eyes.

“You weren’t always so tired… Before you left.”

“I spent too much time awake while I was gone.” Sherlock responded and settled back into bed. “Why did you wake me?”

“Are you angry with me?”

Sherlock stared up at the dark ceiling. “For what?”

“I cheated on you.”

“We’re Soulmates… Not married.” Sherlock answered, rubbing his face again.

“Some people consider that to be the same thing.” John responded.

“I was dead.”

“But I knew you were alive.” 

“I told you to move on.”

“But that didn’t have to mean getting someone pregnant.”

“What do you want me to say, John?” Sherlock sighed wearily.

“I don’t know… Get mad at me! Tell me you hate me and you never want to see me again. Throw me out. I betrayed you. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

“I am not going to do any of those things.”

“Well, why not?” John demanded.

“If I was to get someone pregnant would you do those things to me?”

John settled back on his pillow. “I don’t know. I would probably be mad… And… And sad.”

“Sad?”

“Sad that she could give you something I can never give you. It’s just another example of how I’m unworthy to have you as my Soulmate.”

Sherlock twitched. “You don’t think you’re worthy?”

“I… I…” John rubbed his face, unable to answer. 

“John… If anyone is unworthy it’s me.” Sherlock whispered.

“How can you say that? Look at you! Your mind, your… Agh!” Frustrated by his lack of eloquence, John rolled away. “Compared to you… I’m no one.”

“And yet you can’t bring yourself to fuck me.” 

“What?” John turned his head to glance over his shoulder into the darkness.

“You can’t fuck me. You fucked her, obviously. She has the child to prove it. But every time I’ve asked… What does she have that I don’t? Is it because she’s a woman?”

“No… No, that’s not it.” John sat up to look at Sherlock in the darkness.

“Then what is it? Is it because you don’t want me? You won’t even touch me to get your mark back and sync us up. Do I disgust you that much?”

“No, it’s me! I’m disgusted with myself!”

“But why?” Sherlock’s voice was soft and vulnerable in the darkness.

“I don’t deserve to be with you. I failed you. I feel like I’m always failing you. Any moment you’ll wake up to that and toss me out.”

“You called me beloved.”

“I… What?” John tried to look at Sherlock’s face in the darkness.

“When I jumped. I was there, pretending to be dead and I heard you. You called me beloved. Was that all an act?”

“No… I mean, yes. My carrying on as if my thread snapped wasn’t real, but… But I just tried to imagine what it would be like if it really happened and let my reaction go from there.”

Sherlock sat up and scooted closer. “Did you mean it?”

“What? Oh… Beloved? Yes.”

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s body, holding him tightly in a warm embrace. His lips explored John until he found his thread mate’s lips. Then he didn’t hold back. Teeth and tongue hungrily took what hadn’t been tasted since they parted over two years before. They parted for air and Sherlock continued to nibble at skin. His hands pulled and tugged at John’s pajamas, tossing them away. Suddenly Sherlock pulled away and the bedside light came on, blinding them both. Sherlock stood beside the bed, undressing before climbing back in naked. “How do you want me?”

“I…” John stared down at his own thighs, still in his pajama bottoms. 

“On my hands and knees? On my back? Sideways?”

John looked up, cocking his head to the side. “Sideways?”

“Or whatever it’s called. It’s a good position to keep pressure on my thread knot.”

“I don’t know if you’re ready for…”

“Dammit, John! I was tortured! They didn’t just beat me or break bones. You think I can’t handle a little sex?” Sherlock stared at John for a long time before getting up from the bed and pulling back on his clothes.

“Wait, Sherlock.” John sighed and reached out for him, managing to pull him back on the bed while he was attempting to retrieve his pajama bottoms. “Sit back against the headboard.”

Sherlock obeyed. 

John removed the rest of his clothing and crawled over his thread mate’s body, situating himself on top of the other man so they were skin to skin. Wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s waist he went still, just taking in the warmth of the other body.

Sherlock scooted down so more of him was lounging. Opening his legs, he rested them on either side of John’s body.

“Let’s just… Go back to basics. Like our first time, alright? It’s been a while.” John’s leg straddled one of Sherlock’s and he began to move, rubbing against his thread mate’s thigh. 

For a while Sherlock was content with frottage. Feeling John writhing in his arms after so long apart was acceptable. It didn’t take long before Sherlock was desperately thrusting into John’s hip and then he was over the edge.

John grunted at the sensation as his orgasm pulsed and pulsed after Sherlock went still. Already he could feel the tingle on his pinkie and in the dim light he could see it was a darker color than the rest of his skin. But too soon the familiar sort of lethargy that overtook thread mates after intercourse made him sleepy and he relaxed with his head tucked under Sherlock’s chin. 

“…You most in the world. I would do anything for you. Anything at all…” Sherlock’s words wove in and out of John’s consciousness. “…For you. I love you so much. John don’t leave me…” The words were a lulling sort of chant.

John shifted to allow Sherlock some comfort, curling up against his side and holding him tightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A kiss was pressed to his forehead and the light turned off. Blankets surrounded him and he finally fell back asleep.

^.~

Her name was Janine and she was Mary’s friend. Sherlock met her through Mary. Since both he and Mary spent most of their time in the flat while John worked it was inevitable that they should meet. Mary was six months pregnant and beginning her maternity leave. 

“I think Sherlock likes Janine.” Mary commented to John once as they spent time together. Sherlock had always stressed that it was important for Mary to feel included in the bond.

“What?” John blinked back at the mother of his child. “Sherlock? Sherlock doesn’t like anyone…”

“Well… They have been flirting. She thinks he’s sexy and he smiles fondly at her when she isn’t looking. They have been going out.”

“When?” John demanded. “He always seems to be here. When does he ever go out?”

“During the day when you’re at work. I thought you knew? Didn’t he tell you? A brunch here, a lunch there.”

“I thought he was here working on a case.”

“All I know is that she spends more of her time with him than me.”

John was shocked. Never had his thread mate showed any interest in another person. Was he being replaced?

^.~

John stared down at the filthy man on the mattress. His heart dropped and he felt his pulse race in sympathy with all the drugs in the other man’s system. Warily he kicked the mattress. “Wake up.”

Sherlock groaned and blearily opened his eyes. “John? What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask the same of you.”

“It’s for a case.”

“A case.” John frowned and took deep breaths, desperately trying to control the sensations that flooded through him. “What case brings you here?”

“You wouldn’t understand…” Sherlock sighed wearily and rubbed his face.

“Try me. Why are you taking drugs?”

“I’m not.” Sherlock protested.

“You’re not? Do you want to explain that to my body having a sympathetic reaction to what you took? Because I seem to be buzzing right now.”

“It’s for a case.” Sherlock waved him away.

John picked him up and physically hauled him out of the dos house and to the waiting car outside. “Sherlock claims he hasn’t been using. We’re taking him to go pee in a jar.”

“Sounds like fun.” Mary rolled her eyes.

^.~

“What are you doing?” John demanded of the silent detective. “Drugs… That Magnussen guy peeing in our fireplace? What is going on? Mary says you’re seeing someone… Her friend Janine. Were you going to tell me about that?”

“No.” Sherlock frowned as he gazed off into the distance.

“Why not?”

“It’s not like we’re married, John. And you have a child on the way.”

John made a frustrated noise and sat in his chair. “I don’t understand.”

“I have to work tonight. Will you come with me?”

“Where?” John asked.

But Sherlock was silent.

^.~

“Work” turned out to where Janine worked at Magnussen’s office.

John listened to his Soulmate propose to Janine over the intercom. He felt sick. He felt cold. A piece of himself was missing. Of course that could have been the drugs that was still in Sherlock’s system. 

Watching Sherlock become a flustered, adorable man John had never met made him feel at a loss. And once again he was back at the pool with Moriarty in his face. “You don’t deserve him. You are far too ordinary.” His eyes burned and his throat closed but he refused to cry.

^.~

John was crying.

There was still blood on John’s hands… Sherlock’s blood. The thread had given a sharp tug. It wasn’t the teasing, danger tugs. It felt like someone was trying to rip off his finger. The sensation had caused him to scream. The paramedics found him holding Sherlock, screaming. But the thread wasn’t yet broken. Sitting in the waiting room he waited for the thread to give a final snap. And then it did.

John cried out and nearly fell from the chair. Lestrade was there beside him, trying to calm him, but he couldn’t hear over the sound of his own screams. And then the pain began to fade enough for John to catch his breath. The pain became an itch and a tug. 

“What is it? What do you feel?”

“It snapped… And now I feel the tug again.” John managed, his voice raw from his screams.

“Doctors must have pulled him back from the brink.” Lestrade reached out and patted John’s back.

On some level John knew it happened… A thread mate died and was brought back. It caused strange sensations for the other thread mate. So Sherlock had died but was now alive… For now.

^.~

Within eighteen hours Sherlock was back in the hospital after having escaped. And now John realized his life was a lie.

Mary did it. Mary was six months pregnant but she was a trained assassin and she had nearly taken Sherlock away with one bullet to the chest.

John took a deep breath and held it, trying desperately not to cry.

“Oh… Hello!” Janine greeted John as she came through the door. “How are you, John?”

John wiped away his tears and blinked up at the woman. Janine didn’t know what Mary had done. She had been knocked unconscious without ever knowing it had been her friend. Nor did she know that Mary had shot Sherlock. “I’m holding up.”

Janine deposited a bouquet of flowers in a vase next to the bed and looked down at the slumbering man. “I don’t know what he told you… But our relationship was a lie. He did it to get into my boss’ office. He was trying to ruin his reputation to get Magnussen’s attention. Proposing to me gave him a reason to be in the office and look around.”

“I didn’t know that.” John admitted, staring up at the beautiful woman.

“We had fun… Dated, held hands and snogged in public. But it was all fake. A famous detective who is known to be the Soulmate of his business partner making a spectacle of himself with someone else. How could anyone pass up that story? I made a lot of money selling the exclusive story. That’s all it was… A story.” Janine gently pushed curls away from Sherlock’s forehead. “I didn’t know he would get hurt.”

“If he can stay immobile he’ll have a chance. But I think you know how he is.”

“John… I never had sex with your thread mate. I just thought you should know. He’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” John queried.

“Never mind. I should go. Tell him I was here?” Janine was gone with a smile leaving John confused.

^.~

Recovery was slow. It took several months. But John didn’t complain even once being at the beck and call of his thread mate. The thread snap had been real. He knew how closely he had come to losing Sherlock forever. There was still the gnawing, teasing tug that pulled at his loins, demanding that he sync them back together. But Sherlock was injured. What could he do? Sherlock was in no shape to do anything.

“You have that look again.” Sherlock announced from where he sat, propped up on the couch.

“What look?” John glanced at him.

“The look you get when you’re thinking about the tug on your finger. Just come over here and let me help you.” Sherlock raised a hand as if he was cupping something in his palm. 

“What? No! You’re in recovery! I can’t do that.” John insisted.

“Can’t do what? Give you a little wank?”

“Don’t say it out loud like that!” John cried out, looking about as if to find someone hiding in their flat, listening.

“No one’s here, John.” Sherlock held out his hand to John. “I bet I could do it in less than thirty seconds.”

John bit his lips and stared down at the book on his lap. “Not right now.”

With a dramatic sigh Sherlock dropped his hand and returned to the laptop propped up on his knees. “I don’t understand why you won’t. It’s an actual physical need for you. It has to hurt going this long without being dealt with.” 

“You’re hurt!” John answered sharply. “Don’t you understand?”

Sherlock stared at him for a long moment, glaring at him before returning his attention to his laptop. “It’s not like I’m asking you to fuck me. I know you would never do that. I offered the use of my hand. That’s all. Just a little pressure on your penis to make you ejaculate and sync us back up. Unless…”

John continued to stare at his book, not reading it… Just letting the word hang between them.

“You don’t want me. You don’t want any of this. You resent being connected to me. I can understand, John… Really I can. I wouldn’t want to be bonded to me either.”

“That’s not it!” John glared at his book.

“Then what is it?” Sherlock demanded. “I’m tired of all this. I’m sorry I’m such a burden on you.”

“Sherlock, stop.” John rubbed his face. 

“I’m sorry I came back.” His Soulmate whispered.

“Sherlock, that’s not it, alright?” Hastily John got up from the chair and went to sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing Sherlock’s set up on the couch. “You nearly died.”

“I know that.” 

“I mean you actually died. I felt it. It hurt like hell.”

Sherlock continued to stare at him, silent.

“You’re in no condition to help me right now. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You aren’t going to hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“All I’m offering is my hand.” Sherlock stated slowly and quietly, holding out his hand. 

With a sigh John sat down on the couch next to Sherlock, opening his trousers and pulling himself out.

For a moment Sherlock just stared at the erection presented to him. Finally his fingers lightly touched the shaft, ignoring the soft hiss John made at the delicate caress. His grip shifted and he gave one, long gentle pull and then another.

John grunted in surprise. His hand gripped Sherlock’s arm as if to guide him or brace himself as he rolled his head back in surrender. 

“You are about to burst.” Sherlock whispered giving only three long tugs. On the fourth wet pulsed into his palm and he held it there to catch it all.

John gave a small cry as he felt his thread snap back into sync with Sherlock. The relief just made his orgasm intense. When he finally managed to open his eyes he realized Sherlock’s hand was gone and his thread mate was licking the mess from his palm, slowly as if to savor it, causing John to shudder anew. 

“Feel better?” Sherlock asked after a particularly lewd lick of his index finger.

“Yes.” John whispered.

“Next time don’t leave it for so long.”

“I hope there will never be a next time.” John muttered as he tucked himself away. It was only after he had the zip and button done up that he realized that Sherlock had gone deathly quiet. A glance to the side revealed Sherlock’s broken expression. “I mean… Don’t risk your life like that. Next time you really could die.”

“I did what I had to do.”

“You had to get shot by the woman carrying my child?”

Sherlock absently rubbed his soiled hand on his thigh. “At least Magnussen believes we’re working against each other.”

“How could you be so reckless?” John demanded. “Nothing is worth that! Nothing!”

“I’m sorry I am such a burden to you.” Sherlock whispered, staring at the floor.

“You’re not a burden…” John sighed helplessly.

Sherlock remained silent.

^.~

Of course they shared a bed, they always shared a bed. Mary was gone and so the bonded shared a bed. As Sherlock recovered John began to allow little touches to keep them connected. Sherlock did not speak again of being a burden and John never reminded him. 

How could he think such a thing when it was John who felt he was lacking? It was John who wasn’t worthy of the bonding. It was John that failed to stay loyal when Sherlock had been away. It was John that impregnated Mary. John brought Mary into their relationship and she nearly killed Sherlock.

John woke in the middle of the night. It was summer, only a few months after Sherlock nearly died. Mary was due at any moment. Mycroft had her in a safe house. John woke from yet another nightmare of watching Sherlock die on the operating table and rolled over to sob helplessly at the profound sense of loss.

Sherlock woke and rolled towards him, curling up against his back. His arm wrapped around his thread mate’s waist and he murmured something against John’s neck.

John continued to weep, guiltily accepting the offered comfort even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. Sherlock’s arms were warm and his hand was so very hot as it dipped into his pants to fondle him. “Stop.”

Sherlock snuffled against John’s back. “Your mood is tugging at me.”

“I’m sorry.” John answered. “Shall I suck you off?”

“No.” Sherlock’s answer was soft. “I would like it if you stopped treating me like I was about to break.”

John went still, holding his breath as if he could wait out Sherlock’s need to talk about such things.

“I can’t figure out if you think you’re being noble of if you’re just disgusted with me. I honestly don’t know.”

“I’m not disgusted with you… It’s me.” John breathed. “I’m disgusted with myself.”

“Why? Because Moriarty once messed with your head?”

“Sherlock…”

“That’s all it was. He made you question yourself. You can’t let him win, John.”

“Sherlock…”

“It’s not fair.” And with that Sherlock rolled away to stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how much longer I can live like this.”

“Live like what?” John asked as he glanced back over his shoulder at the empty space where Sherlock had been.

“With a Soulmate that can’t stand to be with me physically.” Sherlock whispered. “The ache is there all the time. I feel like I’m being pulled apart.”

“You… You feel the tug? And you haven’t told me?”

“What would be the point? You have made it clear that you find me distasteful.”

“I honestly didn’t know I was neglecting you.” John rolled towards his thread mate. 

“You are supposed to know what I need. You’re my Soulmate. How can you not know?”

The words broke John’s heart and he rubbed at his face in misery. “What is it you need? Do you want to have sex? You can take me.”

“No. I want to be taken.” Sherlock rolled over onto his hands and knees and looked down at John’s face in the darkness.

“Sherlock…”

“I knew you would say no.” And with that Sherlock got up from the bed and left the room.

John stayed where he was, feeling horrible and a little confused as to the abrupt nature of Sherlock’s mood. The man was only just recovering from a bullet to the chest, he couldn’t want full, penetrative intercourse while he was still recovering. What if he strained a muscle? What if something tore and he bled out? John shivered in the dark telling himself over and over that waiting was the best solution.

^.~

Sherlock stood with his hands up in surrender, a pool of Magnussen’s blood at his feet. 

John kept his hands up, looking in horror at the body cooling on the ground. “What have you done, Sherlock? What have you done?”

“What I had to do.” Sherlock answered, keeping his eyes on the blinding floodlights.

^.~

John stared at Mycroft, angry at him. “You knew.”

“What is it you think I knew?”

“You knew he was still using drugs. You knew he was planning to overdose on the trip out of the country. You knew. He was in your custody after he killed Magnussen. You had to know.” 

Mycroft gave a weary sigh and leaned back in his chair. “And why would I know and not do anything about it?”

“I don’t know! Maybe because you get off on seeing him in pain.”

Mycroft squinted at John and frowned. “I thought it was you who got off seeing him in pain.”

“What are you talking about?” John demanded.

“My brother is laboring under the impression that his own Soulmate doesn’t want him. He has made an effort to take himself out of the bond.”

“What?” John was incredulous.

“Have you noticed he’s become a little… Reckless since he’s returned?”

“No more than usual.” John admitted.

“Do you even know what happened to him while you were off wooing an assassin into your bed? He was tortured.”

“I know that! I saw the injuries.”

Mycroft reached for a remote control and pressed a button. A monitor on the wall came on to reveal a naked man on his knees, wrists shacked together and connected to the ceiling.

“What is this?”

“This is the footage that was recovered from one of the nests Sherlock infiltrated.” Mycroft answered. 

The man in the video twitched and shifted, unable to fully sit down from his near suspended position. “Need you…” His voice was broken and yet it was unmistakable. 

“Sherlock?” John couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

“Please… Need you. Come, please…” Sherlock continued, his voice soft and pleading.

“What is he asking for?”

“He’s calling for his Soulmate to rescue him. He is quite delirious during much of this.” Mycroft answered as he made the video speed up.

“This is horrible.” John breathed.

“This isn’t the worst of it.” 

The video started again as a man came into the cell. Something in his hand snapped on Sherlock’s back, causing red lines to appear.

Sherlock screamed.

“God…” John cried, watching the scene in horror. 

The man tossed aside whatever he was using and began to open his trousers.

“Stop! Please, just stop!” John looked away, taking deep breaths. 

Mycroft paused the video. “You understand… Don’t you? On some level he knew you wouldn’t be there to protect him. He accepted that. It’s the rejection that is destroying him.” Vaguely Mycroft waved at the screen that showed a torturer opening his trousers. “He did that for you. He was able to endure all that to protect you. And you don’t want him. It’s killing him.”

“I’m not worthy of him.”

“Dammit, man. You are his Soulmate. Fate brought you together. Will you really allow him to waste away from neglect just because you have some pathetic self-esteem issues?” Mycroft’s phone buzzed unexpectedly and he glanced down at it. “Mary is going into labor.”

John sat stiffly in the chair, torn. “What am I to do?”

“Sherlock’s condition is stable for now. Go deliver your daughter.”

^.~

John set the bottle down and adjusted his hold on the bundle he held. With a few soothing pats there came a soft burp and he returned the bundle to his elbow. “Sherlock…”

The curled up form on the bed stared listlessly into space. 

“Sherlock I brought someone for you to meet.” Scooting the chair closer to the bed until his knees touched the mattress, he laid the bundle carefully on the bed in the hollow made by Sherlock’s position. Gently he pushed back the blanket to reveal a groggy newborn. “Look at her, Sherlock. Isn’t she beautiful?” John checked Sherlock’s responses. “Ten fingers, ten toes. She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

One of Sherlock’s eyelids flickered but otherwise he was unmoved.

“She wanted to meet her da. Say ‘hi,’ Amanda. ‘Hi, da!’” John kept his eyes on both the sleeping baby and his catatonic thread mate. “Hi, da. I’m your daughter, Amanda. Please come back to my daddy. He needs you. Please, Sherlock? You have to come out of your head and say hello to our daughter.” With one hand on the baby he slipped out of the chair to kneel on the floor beside the bed. His eyes searched Sherlock’s face. “There’s no reason for you to be stuck like this. The drugs are out of your system… There’s no brain damage. We checked. Will you come back from wherever you are?”

Sherlock continued to stare. Only the occasional blink and the movement of his abdomen showed that he even lived. 

John reached for his thread mate’s hand and gently pulled it to rest on the bundle. “Here she is, Sherlock. Here’s our daughter.”

Amanda shifted and gave a small cry, her small voice piercing the silence.

John stared at Sherlock helplessly for almost a minute, hoping the sounds of her cry could break through to him. But there was nothing. With a sigh he pulled the baby into his arms and soothed her.

“No change.” Mycroft stated from where he silently stood.

John startled a little, not expecting him to be there. “No. No change.”

Mycroft held out his hands and John passed him the baby. “All is well, little one. Your Uncle Myc will take care of you while your daddy takes care of your da. Is that alright? Would you like to come with me? I’ll give you sweets and throw you some wild parties. Shush, daddy will never know.”

John rolled his eyes and rested his head on the edge of the bed. “I can hear you.”

“It’s not you I am doing this for. No, it’s not. Is it, Amanda? That’s right… It’s for your da. Maybe he will get jealous that we are having all the fun and snap himself out of his little mood. Yes, he will! Yes, that’s right. You’re such a smart girl. Come along, smart girl. Let’s go get you some cake.”

John groaned, waiting for Mycroft to leave with the baby. Something dropped on his head and he looked up at Sherlock in surprise.

“No cake…” His words were lethargic and he could barely keep focus.

“I know.”

“Babies can’t…” 

“I know. They can’t have cake.” John reached for the hand that had touched his head and held it.

“How long was I…?”

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness since you… You know.”

“I do?”

“Since you tried to kill yourself by overdosing.” With his chin on the edge of the mattress he stared at his thread mate. “Why did you do it?”

“To set you free.” Sherlock’s voice broke and he rubbed his face into the pillow. “So you can finally be rid of me.”

“Why would I want that?” John breathed.

“What else would you want?”

“I’d want my Soulmate to be honest with me when he’s hurting.”

“I tried that. It didn’t work.”

“It doesn’t help that I spent the last few years thinking of myself as completely unworthy. Why would you even want me to be with you? Look at me. Plain… Ordinary. Unremarkable. Forgettable. What do I have that the great Sherlock Holmes could possibly want?”

“I want you, John. I have only ever wanted you. Even as a child when I desperately wanted you to appear so I could be like the others. I wanted you to be the one person in the whole world that didn’t hate me or think I was a monster just for being me. I was so alone. And when I met you I was no longer alone. That changed when I returned. I was alone again because you didn’t want me.”

“I want you! Gods, I want you! But I’m terrified that I’ll hurt you and then you’ll hate me.”

“How could I ever hate you? You are my other half!” Sherlock blinked away tears and rubbed his face into the pillow. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be my other half. Take my body the way I take yours. Every time you pull away I think of those children in school that claimed there was something wrong with me. There must be or else you would want me the way I want you.”

John wiped the tears from his own eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock. I’ve been a rotten thread mate.” Eagerly he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms about Sherlock’s body, pulling him close on the small bed. 

“You must have felt a tug… I should sync us back up.”

“That’s really not necessary…” John began. But then he saw the look on Sherlock’s face. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

Sherlock hastily reached down to undo John’s trousers. With a few scoots and a roll he was face to crotch, staring at the half hard organ. 

“Hurry… Someone may come in.”

Sherlock gave him a look and then leaned down to blow warm breath on the shaft, causing it to twitch. “You act like no one else in the world has a thread mate they need to sync up with. It is nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“I know…” John sighed and grunted as he was engulfed in moist heat. Too quickly he was harder than a teenager who had no control over his hormones. “Fuck, Sherlock…”

Sherlock raised his eyes enough to raise an eyebrow, his mouth obscenely around John’s cock. 

“You’re going to make me finish.”

The organ popped out of the detective’s mouth with an audible sound. “That is the whole point.” Sherlock remarked and licked the shaft. 

John arched his back and stared up at the ceiling of the room that had become Sherlock’s recovery room. The walls were barren and it filled John with a sense of claustrophobia. But the sensations in his body over rode the discomfort as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth of Sherlock’s mouth. The moment he was just about to fall over the edge and climax his eyes caught movement from the door. It opened. But there was nothing for it. His body tensed and then relaxed.

Sherlock grunted and continued to swallow until there was nothing left. Satisfied, he pulled off and rested his arm over John’s hips to regard their intruder. “What do you want, Mycroft?” His tone was cold as he used the back of his hand to wipe away any stray ejaculate from his lips.

John managed to open his eyes and blush at the state he had been found in with his trousers down around his hips and Sherlock draped over him. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“That’s funny. It looks like fellatio to me.”

John’s face reddened further and he looked away.

“Did you come just to humiliate John?” Sherlock asked.

“I came to transfer you to another room.”

“You mean another jail cell.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You have only yourself to blame for overdosing in the first place.”

Sherlock idly played with the hem of John’s shirt as if he found the conversation boring.

“It also occurs to me that if you plan to keep John in bed with you that he might be comfortable in a real bed with a full bathroom… A room suitable for a baby to spend time in.”

Sherlock’s fingers stopped fidgeting and he stared dully at the fabric. “I want to go home.”

“Not until the flat is searched for drugs and adjustments are made for a baby to live there. And then you must promise never to use or else John will take Amanda and leave.”

Sherlock inhaled sharply, leaning down to press his face against John’s stomach. 

“Do you understand, Sherlock? You cannot do that again. Killing yourself will incapacitate John while he experiences the thread snap. Amanda will be left helpless. If you endanger one or both of them by even attempting something stupid again I will send them to a safe house. Understand?”

Sherlock nodded, his face still pressed to John’s stomach. 

“Good. The room I’ve prepared is just down the hall. Would you like a few minutes, John?”

“Yes… Please.” John answered.

“Very well. I will return in two minutes.”

^.~

John leaned against the headboard in their small room. It was more like a hotel room than the previous room Sherlock had been held in. There was a large, comfortable bed and a baby bed for Amanda to sleep in. Both Amanda and Sherlock were sound asleep. Sherlock had his head in John’s lap as he slumbered. 

The door opened and Mary stepped into the room, quietly approaching the baby bed. “Still sleeping?”

“She drank almost the whole bottle.” John whispered.

Mary reached down and pulled the small bundle into her arms. “Goodnight.” 

“Night.” John responded, watching Mary leave with the baby for her shift in the feeding schedule. As the door closed he shifted his position to lay down properly on the bed. 

Sherlock grunted and allowed him to move before setting on his shoulder. “Not on baby duty?”

“Mary has her for the next six hours.” John yawned and curled into Sherlock’s body heat. “Whatever shall we do?”

Sherlock slid his hand down John’s abdomen to the juncture between his legs and squeezed the bulge he found there.

“I didn’t mean… That.”

“Oh?” Sherlock breathed as he lightly kissed John’s lips in the dark. “We can’t do it while she’s here. So we must do it when she’s gone.”

“Aren’t you tired?” John protested.

“I napped. And you promised that you would give in to my every whim.”

“When did I promise such a thing?” John queried.

“When you begged me to live.”

“That hardly seems fair.” But John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders anyway as his thread mate straddled his body. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Sherlock answered as he sat back a bit and pulled down John’s pajama bottoms before removing his own.

“Surely not the position you’re thinking of.”

“And why not?”

John bit his lip, unsure what to say that wouldn’t offend Sherlock. “You’re recovering.”

“I’ve had worse.” Sherlock responded.

“When?” John challenged.

“John, you are hardly my first!” Sherlock sighed as he reached down to caress John’s length.

“What do you mean by that?” John whispered, his heart suddenly chilled.

“You must have seen the video footage.”

John rested his hands on Sherlock’s forearms. “Tell me.”

“They… They didn’t hurt me… Just humiliated me. They used my thread knot. I suppose I should be grateful that we bonded before I was captured and tortured so the knot would exist.”

John reached out and turned on the lamp so he could get a good look at Sherlock. The sudden light blinded both of them, causing them to blink. 

“It should have been you. I wanted it to be you. In my mind palace sometimes I could imagine it was you. I suppose that is why my mark didn’t fade. Mating by proxy. It’s been known to happen…” The look of sadness on John’s face caused Sherlock to trail off. “I’m sorry, John.”

“No. It’s my fault.” John rubbed his face with both hands. 

“You’re disgusted. You don’t want me now that you know I’m tainted.”

“You’re… You’re not tainted.” John soothed, rubbing Sherlock’s forearms. “Mycroft warned me. He started to show me the footage. I didn’t watch it all but I knew what was going to happen. It just made all of this worse when you got back. You felt… Rejected. And I’m sorry for that. It was never you. It was always me. I promise you it was always just me. How could you possibly want me?”

“I want you.” Sherlock reached down to caress John’s cock, pulling it gently with his warm grip. “I desperately want you.” His words caused John to harden and he reached down to press his knot, adjusting his position until he could finally take John inside of him.

“You’re so warm.” John whispered, his arms around Sherlock’s back.

Sherlock removed his hand, allowing himself to tighten on John’s girth. “Less talk...” His hips rolled and he gave a sort of groan as he wrapped himself around John’s lounging body. “Must change position.”

“I like it like this.” John admitted, kissing his thread mate’s cheek. “We can go slowly.”

“I don’t want to go slowly. I want you to take me as if your very life depended on it.”

“So impatient…” John mused as he rolled them over and with some adjustment he found himself between Sherlock’s legs. “Like this?”

Sherlock reached down to take hold of John’s butt, pulling him in deeper. “Now move.”

Being inside a man was different than being with a woman. There was more friction and a tighter orifice. Sherlock squeezed him in ways no women ever had. And it felt good. Too soon John found himself moving in counterpart to the man below him, filling him over and over as he cried out and clung to John tightly. John rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder as his hips moved. 

“Are you close?” Sherlock gasped breathlessly.

“I could be.” John answered, kissing his thread mate’s neck. “Why?”

“To sync us back up completely. We both must…” But his words were lost as his fingers dug into John’s back and his legs tightened.

John allowed himself to concentrate on Sherlock’s gasps and moans, desperately trying to time his own climax with what he heard. With Sherlock’s first sharp cry he gave two final thrusts, finding himself fall into complete pleasure. His pinkie tingled and he knew they had succeeding in syncing together. All John could do was relax, listening to the sounds Sherlock made as he worked through his own climax. 

“Oh, John…” Sherlock sighed, kissing the other man’s neck. “That was… It was so good.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.”

“Good.” John breathed as he slipped out and rolled onto his side.

Sherlock curled up against him. “Are you annoyed with me?”

“Why would I be annoyed?”

“I don’t know. You just don’t seem like a man who just fucked his thread mate into the mattress.” Sherlock remarked as he pulled up the blanket to cover them both. 

“Was I any good?” John asked.

“You weren’t, ‘Oh, Sherlock I’m going to make you ejaculate so hard you will see stars for a week.’”

“Is that what you want to hear?”

Sherlock was silent and he blinked up, looking at his Soulmate in the dimness of the bedside lamp. “No, of course not. But I would settle for, ‘I love you.’” And with that he kissed John’s lips. His hand reached up to tangle itself in John’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

John mirrored Sherlock’s touch, his own fingers tangling themselves in curls. “Of course I love you.”

Sherlock brightened and kissed John’s nose. “Good. Now we can sleep. We have less than six hours until we’re back on Amanda duty.”

“We’re sticky.”

“I like sticky.” Sherlock remarked. 

“We’re messing up the bed.”

“Someone will change the sheets.”

“And that someone will probably be me.” John moaned.

“Quiet, John… Just lay here with me. If it bothers you that much you can clean me with your tongue.”

John giggled softly and wrapped his arms around Sherlock in a tighter embrace. “I do love you, Soulmate.”

“That is good to know.” Sherlock remarked as he closed his eyes and settled down for sleep. “Seems like I waited my entire lifetime to find you.”

“You’ll have me for the rest of our lives together.” John whispered with a gentle kiss his thread mate’s forehead. “If you don’t kill yourself in the process.”

“I’ll take better care of myself. We have a daughter to raise.”

“Yes. We do.”

Sherlock tightened his hold and finally fell back asleep.

“Beloved.” John breathed, kissing the back of his thread mate’s neck.

\--Finis


End file.
